What Must Be Done
by Chief4
Summary: The story about what happened at the Police Station on the final night of SL-9.


Ding, dong, Ding, dong

Ding, dong, Ding, dong. Twelve times struck the clock. Its ominous rings echoed throughout the station. Midnight... thought 27-year old Lana Skye, as she organized case files. She was just one room over from where Damon Gant and Neil Marshall relentlessly questioned Joe Darke.

"So, why'd you do it?" Neil Marshall inquired of Darke. "Hm? Do you just have a thing for killing? Or did these mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters really deserve it? Hm?!" His voice rose. Lana cringed. She thought that it was easier to extract information from a suspect with a calm and cool demeanor, not kicking and screaming.

Joe didn't respond with anything but silence. Damon leaned across the table and stared him in his cold, gray eyes. "What's your motive, son?" he said, deeply and gruffly. He clearly wasn't playing any games. The Chief of Detectives never played games.

Lana sighed as she put KT-3 in alphabetical order with the rest of the 'K' cases. She felt that when the cases were filed away, that all the memories and feelings associated with that case were filed away too. She wouldn't realize how wrong she was until she WAS one of the previously droll names in one of those case files: SL-9.

She zoned out, thinking of where she and Ema would go for dinner tonight, after the interrogation was over, of course.

"What the?! Get back here, damnit!" Neil's voice broke her from her trance. Sounds of struggle ensued. Lana jerked up, and darted into the next room, now containing the enraged Damon and Neil. Joe was missing. Lana was sharp; she understood what had happened quickly.

"Lana, search downstairs, me and Neil'll go up." The older Skye nodded curtly to her superior, and sprinted down the stairs in her high-heels. They were on floor 2 out of 4, so she had a lesser area to search.

While jogging swiftly up the stairs, Gant said, "I'll stop at this floor and search, you go to the top." Neil obeyed Damon, and kept running, while the Chief began to tear through the third floor.

Neil had searched the entire top floor, but for Lana and Gant's office. He was out of breath as he entered through the ajar door. He happened upon a life changing scene.

Ema Skye, only about 14, was being held, with a knife to her neck by the murderer. "H-help..." she whimpered. It was very dark inside the office. The power had gone out; there was a huge storm passing through the city. The roaring thunder added to the eeriness of the situation.

"One more step, and I'll kill h-!" Joe Darke attempted to wheeze, but he was stopped by a flying-cowboy-tackle. Ema was thrown aside in the struggle. She felt a slight nick the side of her neck, where the knife had scratched when she was being tossed aside, but the fear and adrenaline erased the pain immediately. She had to do something to help her savior.

She thought for a brief moment. Any more hesitation, and Mr. Marshall would be dead. She did something that she would look back on as incredibly rash and stupid, but noble, in the times to come. Ema ran full on and knocked someone from someone else's grasp (she couldn't tell, it was too dark. She knew only shadowy forms.)

The younger Skye fainted, Joe and Neil passed out on the cold floor, rain pounding against the windowpane.

Gant, looking very much demonic in the light of the flashing lightning bolts, pushed open the door to the scene.

A devilish smile appeared then upon Gant's lips, as equally devilish thoughts arose in his mind. He had to do what he must do to rise to power. Well, rise to power quicker. He was a shoe-in for the job, but what's a few lives ruined, for a few months gained?

He heaved the gifted prosecutor over his shoulder, walked across the room, and thrusted his chest upon the sword of his knight's armor. I knew this rusty old thing would be put to use someday... he thought.

Gant was a smart guy, and when he saw the bloody handprint on Marshall's vest, he had the whole thing figured out. Playing Lana would be, well, child's play.

He took Neil's vest in his hands, and ripped the section of cloth with the handprint. He stuck it in his pocket to put in his safe later. He also took that hideous vase on the mantle, stuck one finger around Neil's wound, and began to trace the letters 'E', 'M', and 'A' methodically on the vase, and when he was finished, chucked it to the floor. He waited a few seconds for another flash of lightning for light, and made sure to pluck the biggest shard from the floor, and put it in his pocket along with the cloth. The vase had been gifted to him by some niece long ago. He was actually quite happy it was destroyed.

Damon moved Ema a little to further incriminate her, and then stepped back to admire his work. Not too shabby, he quickly smiled, then assumed a shocked and saddened expression, hearing Lana's hurried footsteps down the hall.

Lana, out of breath, panted, "I...couldn't...find...him...I'm...sor-" she looked up and took in the scene. She gasped, her eyes widened, and she seemed to stumble forward.

"M-my...God...what happened?!" she whispered fiercely, staring at Neil's corpse hung upon the armor. She looked at Gant for answers. All he did was shake his head solemnly, and look at Ema's small, faint body stretched out on the ground, her hand bloody, and neck bleeding. Lana's look can only be described as a mother discovering her injured child. She walked over to her, kneeled down and stroked her sister's hair.

"What have you done?..." she whispered, not distributing blame, but in a forgiving tone.

She bit her lip, then abruptly stood up. "Damon, if you ever owed me anything, now is the time to repay me." Little did she know that she would be doing the repaying throughout the next two years.

Lana and Damon quickly got to work. She looked at the broken pieces of pottery strewn about Neil's deathplace, and pieced them together in her mind. She glowered at the thought of her sister's conviction and guilt, and scrubbed them as clean as she could, while Gant pulled Neil's body off the sword, and threw him face up on Joe's body.

After Senior Detective Skye had disposed of the powder, she found Gant hovering over the bodies, with two knives in hand. "I think it's best...if you do it." Lana had learned not to ask questions, and grabbed the weapons dutifully.

Shaking, she stabbed one knife deep into Neil, and jerked her wrist. She heard the loud crack, as a tear slid down her cheek. She drew the knife from his body, and handed it back to Damon. Lana Skye then shoved the other knife into Darke's hand, and closed his fingers around it.

She did what must be done to save her sister. What's the reputation of a murderer, for her sister's salvation?


End file.
